


Ordinary Folk

by entanglednow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Knights of Camelot find themselves in enemy territory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary Folk

  
Merlin knew that other kingdoms had different rules, different enemies, different fears. Uther wasn't the only king to hate and fear magic, though Merlin had thought what he did was barbaric enough. But in this kingdom, many miles to the west, they did far worse things than kill sorcerers. Sorcerers were lucky if they died here. Also, the king hated Uther with a passion that bordered on insanity. Those are two very good reasons why Merlin's not happy at all about being inside its borders after dark. But they're looking for Lancelot and according to the drunk man they'd questioned at the inn, he'd last been seen in one of its lower towns, so they'd been no question as to whether they'd come or not.

The lower town is currently locked up tight because there's a curfew in effect - though Merlin doesn’t believe for a minute that it's to protect the people from bandits like the boards insist. They've stepped into a small farmhouse to avoid the patrols. The pigs milling around outside are making irritated squealing noises. Merlin's not absolutely sure where the pig farmer who lives here actually is. He just hopes that he doesn't come back any time soon.

"We might have a problem," Gwaine says from the window. "The guards are checking the houses."

"They can't be allowed to find us here," Arthur says. Though he's gripping his sword like he'd quite like to fight his way out before they've even been spotted.

"Arthur they can't find _you_ here," Gwen says firmly, and her fingers catch the edge of his bright red cloak.

She's right, of course, because they're wearing Camelot's colours. Merlin's good, but he's not good enough to make them all invisible, or even just Arthur and Leon. At least he probably isn't. He hadn't quite gotten to 'making people invisible' yet and he doesn't want to try it on the fly, due to all the horrible things he suspects could go wrong. Also, to avoid dealing with the inevitable questions as to why exactly no one could see them.

"We can't be knights of Camelot. If they find us, they'll execute us," Arthur says.

"And I'm suddenly happy that you don't enforce the dress code on all your knights," Gwaine says. Because Merlin knows he takes every opportunity to _not_ wear their chain mail and dress cloaks whenever possible.

"They're searching the houses." Gwen catches Arthur's forearm. Merlin can see her fingers bite in through his sleeve. "Arthur, we have to leave."

"We don't have time," Merlin hisses from where he's leant sideways to see out of the window. He can see the bob and flare of their torches a few houses down. "They're already on the streets outside." He pulls back from the ledge. "If we can't leave then we have to look like we belong here, in this house."

"He's right, you can't be knights here. But you might get away with being ordinary townsfolk." Gwaine's already tugging Leon's cloak free of its clasps, when Merlin sets his fingers to Arthur's. One of the metal links snaps under his enthusiasm, cloak fluttering towards the floor.

Gwen gathers them both, before rolling them up in swift, practised movements. She adds them to the bedding, where they look like nothing more than extra blankets.

Chain mail isn't something you're supposed to be able to put on and take off quickly. Merlin is gathering the weight of it as fast as he can, and luckily Arthur seems to realise that having his ears pulled off is currently the very least of his worries. He folds into the motion and Merlin's pulling it in jerks over Arthur's shoulders and down his arms, hard enough that there'll be bruises left behind. He strips the padded undershirt off straight after it.

"Get on your knees, man," Gwaine hisses across the room and Leon obeys without question, leaving Gwaine to haul the metal over his head in a slither of links which instantly clank and drag on the floor.

Arthur's mail is already folded over Merlin's shoulder.

"I need a shirt," Arthur hisses.

"I've got one in my pack," Merlin tosses it at him and Arthur rifles among his things.

"It's not going to fit."

"You're not supposed to be a prince, Arthur, your clothes don't have to fit."

Arthur scowls at him - but he does it while he's tugging the shirt over his head.

Gwaine is stripping off his waistcoat and swivelling Leon around, working the thing up his arms in jerky, not entirely well coordinated movements. Merlin, it seems, has more experience undressing and dressing people. But Leon doesn't seem to be making it easy, trying to bend his arms the opposite way to what Gwaine is clearly after and nearly elbowing Gwaine in the face.

"Be happy it's not a dress," Gwaine says sharply when he finally has it over Leon's shoulders.

Gwen shifts away from the window. Her eyes are wide, mouth tight. "They're in the house next door, for god's sake, hurry."

"Where are we supposed to put the chain mail?" Merlin asks, voice thin and rushed with panic.

Gwen goes down on her knees and tugs at one of the floorboards until it comes up with an angry, creaking snap of dry wood and old nails.

"In here, swords too."

Merlin's on his knees, folded over, pushing the armour towards the hole. But there's too much metal, and it's all awkward folds that won't bend the way Merlin wants it to. A tangled mess with no give in it at all.

"Gwaine, help me," Merlin hisses. Together they push the metal inside the gap between the floorboards in hurried shoves. The shush-clink of them both sliding into the hole is louder than Merlin expects. The swords refuse, briefly, dimensions all wrong for the space beneath. But Merlin's panic seems to somehow leave them both awkwardly placed there, the wood coming to rest unevenly on top of them.

Gwaine pushes the chair over the loose board and shoves Leon into it seconds before the door thumps open and hits the wall with a bang.

The guards stamp inside, trailing cold air, in dark cloaks and sharp helmets. It's armour designed to intimidate more than protect.

"The five of you live here?"

It hadn't occurred to Merlin before that there may have been a little bit of oddness in that.

"Yes," Arthur declares and Merlin wonders if he could manage to fail at 'princely' just this once. Gwaine seems to feel the same because there's a shift of feet that suggests Gwaine has just trodden on one of Arthur's.

They haven't a hope of fighting their way out of this now their weapons are all under the floorboards.

The guard scowls and points at him. "What's your name."

"Art-"

Merlin elbows him in the back.

"Arturo," Arthur offers in one long drawl. Then gives Merlin side-eye for the violence.

"His mother had ideas above her station," Gwaine offers, in a tone that's faking apologetic astonishingly well.

"We don't hold it against him," Merlin adds and pats Arthur on the shoulder in a meaningful sort of way. A meaningful sort of way that he really hopes Arthur catches on to. Or next there'll be fingers dug in his shoulder, maybe a slap for good measure. He's not happy about resorting to the slap, because Arthur will make him pay for it later. But he will, if he has to.

The guards seem to agree that being named 'Arturo' when you look after pigs for a living is punishment enough. Arthur has to be the cleanest pig farmer Merlin's seen in his life. But the guards don't seem suspicious. Maybe they have ludicrously high standards of hygiene here.

"Who're they?" The guard points sharply at Leon and Gwaine.

"They're my brothers," Arthur says, and Merlin's relieved to hear that he's stopped rolling out his words like he'll be marked for his public speaking later. Merlin hopes they'll believe he's a pig farmer from the better side of town.

Gwaine and Leon attempt to look like they're related to Arthur, which involves a lot of looking confused on Leon's part and looking...suggestive on Gwaine's. Merlin just tries to look as much like himself as possible. Because that's been working for him for a while now.

"And this is my wife."

Gwen smiles, awkwardly under Arthur's gesturing.

The guard closest to them moves the door carefully, to check if anyone's hiding behind it. Some tatty old coats swing slowly and Merlin fervently hopes that none of the guards notice they're about five sizes too big for any of them to wear.

"Have you seen any strangers pass by this way," the guard demands.

"I haven't seen any strangers at all," Arthur says firmly.

"Just pigs," Merlin adds. Because he knows the value of idiocy when people were looking for someone cunning.

The guard glares at Merlin, in a way that says clearly enough he'd quite like to smack him, then pushes at the men behind him, sending then back a step so he can file them back outside. The door swings and clacks but they don't bother to latch it behind them.

Merlin can hear their boots tromping off through the mud.


End file.
